


Sanctuary

by mitchan



Category: Salem's Lot - All Media Types, Salem's Lot - Stephen King
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Aftermath, Angst, Drinking to Cope, M/M, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-18 12:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18699436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitchan/pseuds/mitchan
Summary: Jimmy Cody lives AU. Because I really wanted him to survive. And fall in love with Ben and be happy.(Based on the novel.)





	Sanctuary

There was a part of Jimmy that felt drawn to Ben Mears from the first moment he saw his boyish good looks and kind smile. It was a small, secret part of him, which he always kept buried under the surface of an attentive doctor and a good friend. He had gone when Ben called for his help, without questioning the impulse. 

At first, he didn’t even notice the attraction, distracted as he was by mind-numbing terror. 

He’d felt so glad to have Ben by his side when his reality came crashing down. Being attacked by a vampire left no room for questioning their existence. In the aftermath, shaken and fearful, he’d clung to Ben like a child to his mother, a devoted servant to his master. 

Which was why, when they found Barlow’s hideout, Jimmy couldn’t do it without Ben. Mark felt the same, so Jimmy stepped on the gas on the way back, feeling like a fool who was wasting precious daylight hours, but the darkness beyond the trapdoor frightened him too much. 

“Not without Ben,” he muttered, and went even faster through the silent town. 

They grabbed the stakes Ben had made, made a stop by the Church to take holy water in ampules and vials. Jimmy stepped forward towards the altar, knelt, crossed himself, and made a quick prayer. 

“Holy Father… keep us safe,” he muttered. The light from the setting sun shone brightly from the long windows, illuminating the altar and the cross. He felt reassured, and when Ben’s hand touched his shoulder (“let’s go”), he took it and squeezed it. Ben’s smile didn’t reach his fearful gaze, but his shoulders were squared and confident as they marched out of the Church, on their way to the darkness. 

Ben sent Mark to get a lantern as he examined the trapdoor. Jimmy, nervous and impatient, had started down the first rungs when Mark arrived, and Ben shouted a warning a second before Jimmy felt the next step give way beneath him, and he reached out desperately… and Ben caught him. 

They shone the light on the deadly trap beneath the ladder, and Jimmy was chilled to the bone as he looked at the knives waiting for them at the bottom of a long fall. Ben cursed, and they wasted precious time hauling a ladder from the truck of one of the lodgers. It was a quarter to sundown when they finally installed the ladder and went down to the basement, moving the boards with knives out of the way. 

They got to Barlow just as the sun was setting, and Jimmy froze, looking at that beautiful face. He had expected a monster, wrinkled and gruesome, not - not a young, attractive man, who reminded him of Ben, with his dark hair and good cheekbones. 

When the vampire opened its eyes, Jimmy fell in its gaze immediately – he remembered that voice calling him, the undercurrent of lust and desire it set alight – and the thing whispered promises in his soul:  _ “you’ll never have him like this, but you can have me”, “he will love you”, “I will love you _ ”.

Ben and Mark took him down. Jimmy woke up, dazed, with a horrid, ringing headache and bruises everywhere in his body, to see the charred ashes of the thing that had been Barlow. 

  
  


They ran away. Jimmy knew he’d never feel safe at night anymore, and everywhere they went, they locked the doors and the windows at night, carried crosses around their necks, stakes in the trunk of their car. 

The distance helped, though. As the weeks passed and the initial terror began to fade, the old anxiety started to creep up on Jimmy again. They were working their way through small towns, getting closer to the southern border, when Jimmy came in from his temp job at a local ER to their motel room, where Mark slept and Ben kept guard. Jimmy showered, changed, and finally gathered the courage to say what had been on his mind for some time. 

“Maybe we should split up,” he said. 

“Why?” Ben asked, looking confused and hurt.

“You and Mark look alike enough to be father and son. But not me. People look at us the wrong way. It could… it could get us in trouble,” Jimmy said, the words harder to say than anything else he’d ever said. 

Ben looked away, nodding thoughtfully.

“Do  _ you _ want to split up?” he asked.

By God, no. Everything he’d said was true, but Jimmy wouldn’t be able to sleep if he didn’t listen to their soft breathing at night. What would he do on his own, not knowing if they were alright, if they were eating well, if one of them had caught a flu or food poisoning or had a wound they couldn’t stitch up?

But the hostility in some stranger’s eyes as they looked at the both of them, with Mark, made something cold curl in his stomach.  _ They know _ , whispered a poisonous voice inside him.  _ They won’t forgive _ . 

In the end, though, Jimmy didn’t want to make that choice. So Ben made it for him. 

“We stick together,” he said, a trace of stubbornness to his features. Jimmy was so glad he could’ve cried. 

  
  


When they crossed the border, some time afterwards, it was as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. By unspoken agreement, they’d decided this was far enough, safe enough. The sun beat hard and merciless during the daytime, the daylight hours seemed longer, the pace of their lives was slowed down by the heat. 

They started to talk. Sometimes Mark said: 

“My father never let me watch this show,” or “my mom used to make pancakes with blueberries mixed in,” and he would be quiet and withdrawn for some time after. Jim and Ben would hug him, words not enough to cover how sorry they were for his loss, all their losses. 

Jimmy’s parents had moved out of Salem’s Lot into the city a while ago. He still phoned them, from a motel or a phone booth, once in a while. He tried not to think about his childhood friends, his old patients, his co-workers, back in Salem’s Lot. He’d rather not know what happened to them. 

Once, as they went on a walk along the beach, while Mark was away at Church, Ben talked about his wife. About how much hope Susan had given back to him. 

And feeling like he owed Ben a secret of his own, Jimmy told him about Ralph, the young man in med school he’d shared study hours and parties with, soft kisses exchanged in the dark, a night together in his one-bedroom apartment before Ralph disappeared from his life without a word. Something that was lost before he’d ever knew he had it. 

Perhaps it was a mistake, because Ben looked at him differently from then on. Perhaps reconsidering all of Jimmy’s actions since they’d known each other. 

Still, he was one of them, and when Ben decided they had to go back to Salem’s Lot, he counted on Jimmy too. Jimmy panicked, at first, couldn’t quite suppress the urge to turn away and leave the house they’d rented, a part of him wanted to keep running south until he couldn’t remember his own name, jump into the ocean, be swallowed by the depths. 

But then he steeled himself. He was a medical doctor. He’d always known it was only a matter of time. The sickness that affected Salem’s Lot would spread, untreated, like a cancer. Into the surrounding areas, until if infected the whole county, the state, the country… it would never stop. THEY would never stop. It wasn’t in their nature. 

“You’re right. We have to try,” he said, with a heavy heart. 

They both turned to Mark, who kept shaking his head, “no”. 

  
  


They had a loud argument that night. 

“He doesn’t have to come with us. He’ll be safer here. He’s already built a life here,” argued Jimmy. 

“He should come with us. We gotta stick together,” Ben kept repeating, stubbornly. 

“Why?” Jimmy asked, frustrated. 

“I need you both with me!” Ben shouted. 

Jimmy paused, and slowly sat down beside Ben on the threadbare sofa. 

“I know,” he whispered. He grabbed Ben’s shoulder, half-fearing his hand would be shaken off, but instead, Ben leaned into him. Jimmy swallowed, throat dry. 

He knew. It was the same reason he was still with them, despite his fears, despite the danger. 

“Mark’s old enough to make this decision on his own. And… and you won’t be alone. I’m coming with you. We can do this together,” he said. 

In the end, Mark stayed, under the watchful eyes of the priest they’d talked to, now officially enrolled in the seminary. 

“Promise me you’ll both come back,” he pleaded, looking up at them. 

“We will. I promise,” said Ben, hugging him. Jimmy promised to call, asked him to take care. He couldn’t bring himself to promise he would come back, no matter how much it would reassure the boy.

  
  


As they headed north, the shadows of fear crept up on him again. The nightmares had never left, but now he woke up, chilled to the bone, with the image of Mrs Glick’s body trembling under the blanket, the terrible feeling of Barlow’s horrible red eyes watching him from the darkness, and he couldn’t shake off the fear. 

He took to drinking heavily, just to fall asleep. 

One night, as he was heading out of the cheap motel they’d rented, Ben ran out after him, stood in his way. 

“Jim. Don’t go. Stay here,” he asked. 

“I’m only going out for a drink. I won’t be long,” Jimmy promised. 

“That’s a lie. Last time you came back after four hours, beaten up. I didn’t want to ask what happened, but. It’s got to stop,” Ben said, firmly. 

“You’re not my master,” Jimmy bit out, with far more anger than as necessary. 

“I’m worried about you. Please,” Ben was pleading now, hands outstretched, as if trying to catch him. 

“Move outta the way,” Jimmy said, pushing Ben away. Ben didn’t budge, grabbing Jimmy’s lapels. 

It turned into a scuffle, brief and desperate, because they were both tired and stressed. Jimmy felt drained, and fell down heavily at Ben’s first punch. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, sorry…” Ben kept muttering, as he helped him up. Defeated, Jimmy walked back to the motel room and drank a glass of water from the tap, wishing it was something stronger. 

Ben hovered around, not getting too close but afraid of letting him out of his sight. Finally, Jimmy sank down into one of the twin beds, head in his hands. 

“This is harder than I anticipated,” he confessed. 

“I know. I feel the same way, trust me. Only reason I’m not drinking is because I’m not sure I could ever make myself stop. Sorry about- I just can’t- I couldn’t bear to-” Ben tried to explain himself, nervous. 

Jimmy sighed. “Do you remember that last day? When we found Barlow? The things he offered- they were so hard to resist. That’s what I’m really afraid of. Letting go. Giving in. It’s so easy,” he whispered. 

Ben sat down beside him. He hesitated for a moment, before he took Jimmy’s hand in his own. “Is this because you want me?” he asked, plain and simple. 

Jimmy looked up. Ben smiled kindly, brought Jimmy’s hands to his lips, kissed the back of his hand, softly. 

“Ben, you-”

“I want you to have a reason to stay. I  _ want _ you with me,” he said, before he kissed Jimmy. Breathing in his scent, Jimmy closed his eyes, and let go. 

Together, they would go back, and they would watch the town burn. And at night, they would whisper their secrets beneath the bedcovers, making a sanctuary to keep them safe from the night beyond. 

  
  
  
THE END


End file.
